


Even when the whole foundation seems cracked

by blahblahblahcollapse



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, I'm terrible at tagging things, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), a little fluff, brief implied suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 23:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11839323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahblahcollapse/pseuds/blahblahblahcollapse
Summary: I don't know what this is. It just fell out of me one day a few months ago and I've been sitting on whether or not to post it up ever since.Basically, I got really fucked up thinking about these two, Angsty Steve in particular, and decided to vomit out nearly 3k words about Steve reacting to the first time Bucky holds him in 70+ years.Enjoy! :)





	Even when the whole foundation seems cracked

Steve wakes to the feeling of an arm wrapping around his waist and his body goes rigid instantly at the contact. He thinks it should be comforting to him, but it’s been so long that it feels more jarring than anything. Bucky starts to pull back and Steve immediately latches onto his right arm, pressing the flesh and blood hand into his chest.

“Don’t.” He whispers, and Bucky complies, pulling Steve closer until his back is pressed firmly into his chest. Steve lets out a heavy sigh, his whole body relaxing into Bucky. His heart is pounding heavily in his chest and he’s not entirely sure why. It’s been 70 years since Bucky last held him like this and he’s spent more time than he can account for just wishing to have his best friend’s arms around him again. But now that he has it, he’s not sure what to do with it or how to really feel. He can’t ignore the fact that Bucky’s left arm hasn’t come into contact with his skin even once, as if the other man is purposefully keeping it away.

The last time he had Bucky’s arms around him was the night before Bucky fell. They had long given up any pretense with the other commandos, sharing personal space like they were one solid unit, and their sleeping arrangements were no exception. Steve had curled up in Bucky’s arms in their tent, face pressed into the warmth of his chest, and Bucky was humming Blue Skies as he ran his fingers through Steve’s hair. The old tune was one of Steve’s mom’s favorite songs, something she used to have playing constantly when they were kids; it was one of those real happy tunes, the kind that made you blush with how sweet it was. The sound of Bucky’s voice and the rhythmic caress of his fingers helped to ease the uneasy feeling that had unfurled in Steve’s stomach when they had discussed the mission they faced tomorrow. Feeling a little uneasy the night before a mission was nothing new, but this felt pointedly different and he was grateful that Bucky seemed to get that without him having to communicate it in so many words. Bucky had just followed him to their tent and pulled him in close the instant they were both lying down.  
Of course now Steve knows exactly why he had felt so uneasy leading up to that mission. When that piece of metal snapped off the side of the train, taking Bucky from his arms for what he could only assume would be the rest of his life, no amount of words could explain the absolute horror and heartbreak he felt. Looking back, he’s not entirely sure what kept him from just jumping out after him. Everything else be damned, he couldn’t imagine his life without Bucky.

But he had carried on, the need for justice stronger even than the heartbreak of losing his best friend and partner. When he crashed that plane into the Arctic, he wasn’t thinking much beyond the fact that this was the only way he could save everyone. But looking back he knows that if Bucky had been beside him, or if it had been Bucky on the other side of that final call with Peggy, he would have second guessed his choice to do it; he would have tried to find any alternative possible. But it wasn’t Bucky on the other end, and it was just him in that cockpit, alone with only his shattered heart for company. He couldn’t think of a reason to fight any harder than he already had. If he couldn’t be with Bucky in this life, he’d be with him in the next one.  
It’s impossible to describe the agony he felt when he woke to an entirely unfamiliar world that shared only one similarity with the world he’d left behind: Bucky Barnes was still dead.

By the time he learned that Bucky was, in fact, still alive, he had already grown numb to the heartache that had become his every day. The words “Who’s Bucky?” were like ten thousand volts straight to his heart. What kind of cruel world would bring Bucky back only to dangle him in front of Steve, utterly broken and impossibly out of reach?  
It was years still, of dancing around each other; Bucky disappearing completely after he’d dragged Steve to safety following their fall from the Helicarrier. Steve chased his shadow for two years before finally being forced to take a break, and then suddenly the opportunity to find Bucky again presented itself. He recalls a conversation with Sam at one point, in which his friend asked how far he was willing to go to find Bucky again and Steve had told him, with all the conviction he possessed, that he would stop at nothing.

“Even if the Bucky we find isn’t the Bucky you knew?” Sam asked as they sat in a motel in the middle-of-nowhere Nevada.

“Even when we had nothing, we always had each other,” Steve told him. “He knew me, I know he did. That means that somewhere in there, deep down, he still needs me.” Sam had just nodded in understanding, accepting Steve’s words as he always did. Steve didn’t know what he did to deserve such a loyal friend, but he was beyond grateful for him.

When Bucky recalled memories of Steve and his mom, it was like someone had taken a chisel to the finely constructed dam Steve had built around his heart, cracking off bits of concrete until the smallest stream of water trickled out of it.  
Every time Bucky remembered something, another hole was made and Steve wanted to take a bulldozer to the whole thing, but Bucky was still broken, and he wasn’t getting better just because he was remembering. The first time Bucky snapped and attacked Steve without any obvious triggers, Steve realized things may never be the same and he began to plaster over those holes that had been etched out in hope.

Bucky had begged Steve to let him go back into cryo when the option was presented to them. Everything in him wanted to say no, but it couldn’t be about him. He’d spent so many years just wishing to have Bucky back in his arms, and now he was right there in front of him; but there was a canyon between them, impossibly wide and unconquerable. The only time he’d found Bucky’s arms around him again had been in chokeholds. Things weren’t better just because they were both alive and had found each other. He thought he understood what Sam meant when he said this Bucky wouldn’t be the same Bucky he always knew, but the reality of it was far worse than he’d imagined.

“I can’t do this if you’re not with me.” Bucky said, his eyes rimmed red and wet with tears. Steve kept his expression blank, the last of his hope being buried under plaster.

“I’m with you till the end of the line, Buck.” He replied, feeling the words catch in his throat a bit on their way out.

“Thank you.” Bucky whispered, the smallest smile crossing his lips before he stood to go find T’Challa. Steve curled his hands into fists in his pockets to keep from reaching out for Bucky as he passed him.

Bucky spent the next two years in and out of cryo. Steve visited the first two times that he came out of cryo, but every time felt like ripping his heart directly out of his chest and then stitching it back in; so he stopped after that.

Two years passed and T’Challa decided they had done all they could for Bucky. They released him from cryo and Steve was there to take him back to the states, where the Avengers initiative had been re-established and Tony had managed to obtain a full pardon for Bucky.  
Bucky moved into his own room and they found a therapist for him to continue working with, and for the first time in 70 years, Steve felt himself begin to hope again. But Bucky avoided him like the plague, finding every excuse he could to avoid being in the same space as Steve at any given point. Steve quickly settled back into the numbness he’d grown used to over the years, throwing himself into work and avoiding the subject altogether when Natasha or Clint asked about it.

It’s been a year of dancing around each other, and now here Bucky is, arm wrapped protectively around Steve like he never left him. And as Steve breathes in and out, the familiar smell and weight of his best friend being so close after all this time filling his senses and overwhelming him, the dam comes crumbling down and he can’t stop the broken sob that forces its way up his throat and out of his mouth. Tears pour down his cheeks as his entire body begins to shake with the force of his sobs and Bucky’s crawling over him so that he can look at him face-to-face.

“Hey, shh, Steve…” Bucky whispers, his eyes wide with concern, and Steve can’t even feel embarrassed; he just buries his face in Bucky’s neck and continues to sob. His fingers curl around Bucky’s shoulder and neck, digging in and leaving tiny crescents in Bucky’s skin as he pushes desperately closer. He just needs to be closer, needs to worm his way under Bucky’s skin and never leave. He feels like an organ that’s been left outside of the body for too long, desperate to find its way back into the empty cavity it was made to occupy so it can function again. His heart is pounding so heavy in his chest and he’s having trouble catching his breath, the force of his sobs constricting his airway. It’s the closest he’s come to an asthma attack in over 70 years and Bucky’s talking to him again:

“Breathe, Steve, just breathe in and out, follow my lead.” Bucky’s voice is an anchor that Steve clings to and he focuses all of his energy on matching his breaths to the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest against his. It’s a while before he’s able to breathe normally again, and that’s when the embarrassment hits him. He doesn’t know what to say, just knows that he can’t look Bucky in the eyes, so he just buries his face deeper into Bucky’s neck and wonders if he might be able to asphyxiate this way instead.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Bucky whispers, his fingers curling around the hairs at the back of Steve’s neck, where it’s grown out a bit longer than Steve usually lets it go.

“For what, Buck?” Steve asks into his neck, something hot like rage sparking in his chest.

“For everything…” Bucky says and that’s when Steve can’t hide anymore. He pulls away from Bucky’s neck and flips them so that the older man is underneath him. Bucky looks surprised, but not upset, despite the fact that Steve is glaring at him.

“Don’t you ever say you’re sorry, James Buchanan Barnes.” He spits out, and he would feel guilty except that he knows Bucky won’t take it personally. “You got dealt a shit hand, but none of that is your fault. So stop blaming yourself, and don’t think for one second that I blame you.”

“It doesn’t matter, Steve, I still did all that stuff…” Bucky whispers.

“Yeah, so what? I did plenty of shit, too.” Steve says, voice stern but his expression is broken, vulnerable. “We can’t change the past, though god knows I wish for it every damn day. I’m not asking you to erase what you did, cause you can’t do that, neither of us can.” Bucky searches his eyes for several seconds, his own face riddled with guilt, before finally nodding and reaching a hand up to caress Steve’s cheek gently.

“Did I ever tell you before?” He asks, thumb stopping to rest right at the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“Tell me what, Buck?” Steve asks back.

“That I loved you, that I’ll always love you.” Bucky says, tone firm and resolute, and Steve has to suppress another sob at the words. “I can’t always remember what was real, but I know I said it at least a million times in my head. I hope I wasn’t too much of a coward to say it out loud at least once.” Steve feels too overwhelmed to form words, so instead, he leans down and presses his lips to Bucky’s. Bucky lets out a quiet moan of surprise, but then his fingers are curling around the back of Steve’s neck again and he’s arching up into the kiss, chasing Steve’s mouth when he pulls back for a second to rearrange his arms.

“You told me every day from the day you turned sixteen until the very day I lost you on that train, Buck.” Steve whispers into Bucky’s mouth. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you the same every day. I love you, Bucky Barnes. No matter what that brain of yours tries to throw at you, always know that that’s the honest to god truth.” Bucky nods, the smile on his face brighter than Steve had dared to hope to see again, and then he’s peppering Steve’s face in kisses. He pulls him closer with both arms now, until there’s no space left between them. Steve fits into his arms like they were originally designed as one.

He thinks about the way that Bucky’s arms have always meant protection, safety, and comfort to him. He thinks about how they held him when he was just twelve-years-old, when Bucky first learned from Sarah how to bring Steve down from an asthma attack by having Steve focus on matching his breaths. He thinks about the first time Bucky kissed him, when he was fifteen and Bucky had just turned sixteen, and how these arms had held him tight in a dark alley. They’d stopped to hide from a group of boys that were too big for even Bucky to fight off. One minute Bucky was scolding Steve for being such an idiot and the next he had Steve pressed up against a dumpster, kissing him hard and begging him to stop putting himself in harm’s way. He thinks about the first time they fucked, about the way strong arms wrapped around his back, fingernails marking his skin, as he fucked Bucky from above. He thinks about how those same arms held him when his mom passed away, how those hands wiped tears from his eyes while Bucky’s face was wet with his own tears. He remembers the first time these arms held him after the serum and the way it should have felt strange and unfamiliar, but it only felt safe and right. He thinks about being held by these arms on all of those sleepless nights behind enemy lines, thinks about the time they held him as Bucky swayed back and forth with him in a bar that had been gutted by bombs, nothing but the fuzzy sound of a song playing over a radio that was on its last leg. He thinks about the last time he had felt safe in these arms, on that final night before the train.

He feels the cold metal of Bucky’s left arm against his bare skin and thinks about all that was taken from them that day. He thinks about all that was taken from Bucky, and the hell he’s been through to finally bring these arms back around his Steve. He thinks about the way Bucky’s body goes a bit rigid when Steve grabs hold of his left arm and turns to place a kiss on the bicep. He thinks about the way this arm has only ever been used to harm Steve, thinks about how that makes him feel and then he decides that it doesn’t matter. Because it’s a part of Bucky now, it’s Bucky’s arm, and in Bucky’s arms is where Steve has always found safety and comfort. No amount of damage can undo that truth. So Steve kisses along the metal, feeling Bucky shudder beneath him when his lips find the place where metal and flesh meet.

“I love you.” He whispers once more and then kisses Bucky on the lips again. Finally, after over 70 years of missing these arms, missing his best friend, he knows without a doubt that they’re going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Also I want to say that I'm very sorry about the formatting on this. I'm a grandpa and do not understand basic technology. If you have any advice on how to make the formatting not look this terrible, please let me know because I swear I spent a solid ten minutes fucking with it and this is the best I could do.
> 
> Comments/kudos make me regret posting this less, so if you liked this it'd be real neat of you to let me know. ;)
> 
> If you want to drop by my tumblr feel free - blahblahblahcollapse.tumblr.com  
> It's an absolute clusterfuck, so I apologize in advance.


End file.
